Who We Were | Book One

11. The Red Book

A stream of sunlight poked its way through the narrow gap in the tattered curtain, waking me. My head swam as my eyes adjusted to the room, the low light casting a dimmed glow. 

I'd almost forgotten where I was and the unfamiliar shapes slowly clocked in my head.

I stretched my neck, feeling my bones crack and body loosen. The half-empty bottle of whiskey hung from Josh's limp hand as soft breaths escaped his parted lips. 

I sat up slowly, the pounding in my head preventing any sudden movements, my brain thumping from dehydration. I removed the bottle from his loose grip and placed it on the floor, it wobbled on the rough carpet but remained standing. 

Bringing myself to my feet I stretched out my body. Josh groaned quietly behind me, straightening his legs in his sleep across the newly empty sofa where his arms sprawled out.

I pulled myself up and sat on the stretch of bar beside Josh's bag. The fabric bulged in several places and while its contents were intriguing, I wouldn't dare open it. 

I dug my hand into my jacket pocket, only finding the squashed remains of a flapjack to which my stomach growled loudly in response.

"Fine," I whispered to myself as I unwrapped the whole thing and dropped the crumpled plastic to the floor, taking small bites from the bar in my fingers. It had been flattened entirely, sitting paper-thin in my fingers where it crumbled. I shoved the last bite into my mouth as I heard Josh stirring. 

The leather creaked as his head popped over the back of the sofa. His eyes were tired as he attempted a weak smile.

"Morning," he groaned.

"Morning," I nodded.

His eyes wandered to the bag beside me. "Chuck me a bottle of water, would you?" His voice was croaky as he rested his head over the back of the sofa, his eyes squinting at the stream of light which interrupted his vision.

"Sure," I sniggered, jumping down from the bar and grabbing his bag. 

I tugged at the zip, revealing its contents. I reached my hand towards the water bottle that had been shoved down the side, my fingers brushing the cap before I froze. 

I pushed the zip and the bag opened itself further, revealing a red-bound notebook.

"What the fuck?" I whispered, wrapping my fingers around the red leather and pulling it into the light.

"What is it?" Josh asked from the sofa, his eyes narrowing to the book in my hand. 

I flipped open the cover, brushing across the pages with my fingertips, my own scribbled handwriting filling the lines. I turned to the middle and just before the pages went blank was the last entry. 

The words I had written a few days ago.

"What do you mean 'what is it'?" I spat, showing him the cover. "You tell me what this is."

"It's a notebook?" He questioned, standing up. A tentative look crossed his face as he struggled to wake up. "I don't understand? I found it."

"Why do you have it?" I asked through gritted teeth.

He took slow, wary steps towards me as if he was treading on ice. He froze as I shot him a warning glare. 

"I read the first few pages... I thought it might say something that would help," he explained, raising an eyebrow as my gaze remained focused on him, unmoving. "Em, please tell me what's going on right now."

"This is my notebook," I mumbled.

"What?"

"It's mine!" I yelled, throwing the book to the ground.